Luyện nghe bài hát Hey That's Me

It's off the hook home slice, like a fish.
All I is that you taste this like a Swedish dish.
It's the L-A-R-S, H-O I-S...
and I represent CV, and yes I must
I'm back 2003 and the drum pumps.
Back up, Kross, it's my turn to jump.
See I'm a and I'm balanced,
it like Ritchie Valens,
and I'm up to this session,
yes I'm up to this challenge.
And I'm thinking, and I'm writing,
and I'm rapping, and I'll
all the layers of green
up the zone.
Because I'll analyze world,
I'll analyze head.
I'll your paradigm with this microphone.
I was in my '88 south on 101,
with the woofer in the back P.E. number one.
Free-styling in a genre I create,
props to Melle Mel, D, and all eight
thousand MC's on whose shoulders I stand.
I'm just a white kid a plastic jammie in his hand!
See MC here spends his life feeling fine,
but often get off in a straight line.
Fine, time tell where he's headed.
It's up to chance, like path is breaded.
Your criticism? I'm above it! BS? Let's rubber glove it!
your heroin and shove it... life you've got to love it.
So get this, steal this, deal this, this away,
I made this out of my brain neurons and clay.
It helped my brain chill for a and a day,
until one day it stopped working like the of Pompeii.
But it's okay, hey, because I it home.
Knick knack paddy whack, my range his grown.
Profound like De Saint Exuperey,
I rock the chorus of this song I say...

"Lars Horris," hey me!
Swedish, part Australian, full fun boy G.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I 1430 on my SAT's.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I'll rock the like 1-2-3.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I drop English and and biology.

I piss Catholics off with my comic in the Daily. "Why's it '27th Street'?" Man, don't front me.
Jorge Cham might do "PhD," but can he try to rock the mike like me?
And I'm weird like Al, attend Cal, D.J.'s my buddy. Who's Mike?
Josh plays bass and I take vows,
to my hip-hop rhymes that I'm now.
And I women like GER's,
I the destruction of SUV cars.
I think and Palestine should get along.
I sampled Nine Inch for this song.
And I'm so post-modern, I even exist.
Did you that P. Diddy?
You got dissed!
the twenty-first century, MC's please,
you're killing hip-hop you sample the Bee Gees!
Most today rap about five things:
narcotics, cars, girls, clothes, and the bling.
of grandeur in full swing,
fascist self focus and rings.
But if Martin Luther King were today,
how would he the decay displayed?
Homogenized identities, betrayed,
there's more to rap than getting paid.
And there's to life than MTV and Reeses Pieces,
and when I sit in silence, my love for increases.
It feels great to the plug on the family TV,
and make my own in society.
And while I freak this beat, you're spoken word,
trying to get naked voice heard.
If I know ProTools, I'd be like you
and I just do spoken word if I wanted to.

"Lars Horris," hey me!
You might see me on the bumping Run-DMC.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
my BA I'll get my PhD.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Metaphysically fly John Donne's "The Flea."
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Bronte like Wide Sargasso Sea.